


Anastasia

by QueenOfPlotTwists



Series: 31 Day Yu-Gi-October Halloween Challenge [28]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh
Genre: 31 Days Of Halloween, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Bad ass Yami, Bakura is a jerk with a heart of gold, Crossdressing Kink, Darkshipping, Gothic, Halloween Challenge, Librashiping, M/M, October Prompt Challenge, Rituals, Vampires, Yami in a Gothic wedding dress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:02:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27278443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfPlotTwists/pseuds/QueenOfPlotTwists
Summary: Sequel to Interlude: Almost HumanYami storms into the manor intending to rescue his wayward younger brother. He does not expect to find him the lap of a mocha-skinned vampire. Nor does he expect to meet a gorgeous white-haired vampire whose lustrous russet eyes and shark-toothed smile both ignite his temper and set his blood on fire--so why does he seem so familiar? And why can Yami not remember?Day 28 of 31 Day Yu-Gi-October Halloween ChallengePrompt 31: Ritual (my favorite!)
Relationships: Marik Ishtar/Mutou Yuugi, Yami Bakura/Yami Yuugi
Series: 31 Day Yu-Gi-October Halloween Challenge [28]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947991
Kudos: 5





	Anastasia

**Author's Note:**

> I literally finished this at 2 am. Took longer to write when I planned because i struggled with the end and finally accepted that I was gonna need more than one chapter to completely tells Bakura and Yami's side of the story ^^'
> 
> The song Necropolis of Former Lovers was a huge inspiration Thank you Voltaire! but after posting this prompt I realized the song Anastasia fit this particular part better, so Necropolis of Former Lovers will be the next one.
> 
> This series (and a special surprise I have reserved for Halloween) will be the conclusion of my Halloween prompt series ;)
> 
> Day 28 of 31 Day Yu-Gi-October Halloween Challenge  
> Prompt 31: Ritual (my favorite!)
> 
> Only one more day until Halloween! and only 3 prompts left!\
> 
> Songs: Necropolis of Former Lovers--Voltaire  
> Anastasia--Voltaire  
> Angel with a Shot Gun--The Cabb (fav song for this one)

_There's a field of flowers and they smell like you  
And I go walking through them when I feel you remember me  
You know I'd love to pick one for my lapel, but you know  
There are too many insects watching  
I'm afraid they'd tell on me_

—Voltaire, _Anastasia_

Yami stared at the stranger, stunned beyond words. “How the fucking hell do you know my real name?” None but Yugi knew his real name. “What are you doing in _my_ house!” he demanded letting all his intimidation and rage bleed into his voice.

The stranger was not frightened, or even surprised. He looked...elated, _euphoric_. The way those dark red eyes sparkled as they looked at him, like he was a blind man seeing for the first time, like a man scientist who’d just discovered the true origin of the universe.

A smile slit his handsome almost entirely in two it was so wide--revealing shiny white teeth and sharp, oh God help him, _fang_! Laughter exploded from his chest and gut, a burst of blissful euphoria so loud and so lyrical it made Yami’s very bones shake--and his insides quiver was something that was not fear _or_ anger.

“Oh…my God!” The man beamed. An impossible smile brightened the entire contour of his face making the burnt ocher skin shimmer like melted chocolate, intensifying every curve and sharp angle of those chiseled cheekbones, and the glint in those burgundy eyes to all but burst into flames. “I have certainly missed _that_ look on your face!”

That voice, that deep, sartorial rasp; that low guttural rumble. Like thunder rolling in just before a storm, like the salacious promises of a whispering serpent. Yami _knew_ that voice. Knew it as surely as he knew his own name. And yet he could not recall where he had heard it, nor could he recall a name for it or give it a face.

He laughed so hard his body shook with it. Throwing back the long, rigid curtain of his spiky hair, white and wild as a winter storm, he collapsed against the railing. The moonlight reflecting off every detail of his toned chest, the muscles of his arms, the low V of his hips that disappeared into his tight leather pants. 

Dear God the man was beautiful, so beautiful it terrified him and he found himself taking stumbling steps backward. The face he did not recognize and the voice he knew but not from where so achingly familiar that it hurt to think.

And yet he steeled his expression: grit his teeth and hardened his eyes firing his expression and demanded. “I will _not_ ask again. _Who_ are _you_?” Nothing could’ve stopped the desperate bleeding edge from creeping into that threat.

The man looked down at him, fanged smile curling at the corners, garnet eyes glittering with absolute desire. “Do you _really_ not know?” He cocked his head to the side, playfully, absolutely _adoring_ the sheer and absolute rage transforming the beautiful boy’s face, the confused embers igniting in those ruby eyes, before they burst into flames of rage and indignation.

By all the Gods, he had not changed a _bit._ Thank. God.

He shifted his expression towards the other end of the room, snickering at the two “younger” boys still together on that God Awful throne bringing shame to its memory and pissing off the ghost it belonged to who was no doubt rolling in his grave. “Making love in an open space?” He quirked a brow at Marik’s frozen blink. “When did you become so bold, Marik. Or rather, when did the waif?”

Yugi’s entire face suffused with color, a deep vermillion color that transformed the horrified mask of his face just before the nose dived in Marik’s chest. The vampire was quick to comfort the boy by wrapping his arms around him and shooting Bakura a murderous glare in defense of his beloved’s honor. 

Somewhere in the whispered threats Yami heard the name that snapped the locks: _Bakura_.

The action spurred Yami back into attention and he spun on his heels, glaring at his brother’s supposed kidnapper with a mixture of hate and murder, but his attention did not leave this new interloper for long, and he whirled back, never taking his eyes off the man, the interloper, the (dare he admit it to himself) vampire...this Bakura, as he pushed back from the banister and descended the balcony stairs with deliberately slow, swaggering step. Each movement was a seduction: a shake of his hips, showing off that scandalous V, tempting the last of Yami’s resolve, and adding fuel to his rebellion.

“I suggest you two make yourselves scarce.” The vampire spoke all casual calm. “ _Princess_ , here, and I have _a lot_ to catch up on.” He fixed Yami with a sultry grin. Fury boiled Yami’s blood: the nickname causing a rise of irritation that seemed both annoyingly familiar and surprising in its impact, as it rolled off the man’s tongue with all the casual familiarity of an old friend. He could not understand _why_ exactly the nickname had bothered him so much, he’d been called far worse due his open sexuality. Yet that way Bakura spoke it, had said it, awoke a familiarity in Yami that was more than just basic irritation or annoyance, something that was almost...exciting and...arousing? 

The hell was wrong with his treacherous body.

“Good idea,” the other vampire spoke breaking Yami of his stupor. He spun around just in time to see the man place his brother down, fix his pants, scoop Yugi up like a bride and disappear in a whirl of whirl of shadows. Yami gasped with horror as the two appeared to evaporate into thin air and made a mad dive to grab his brother but his long fingers only caught hair and he crashed over the arm of a chair with a sharp hiss of pain.

He ignored it and shot up, darting about the room, panic stricken and dumb struck screaming “Yugi! YUGI! What the?”

Hearing a snort, Yami whirled on him and exploded “Where the Hell did that bastard take my brother!”

The force of his fury sent a few of Bakura’s stray hairs fluttering backward but he did not flinch. His smile was that of a snake with a bird in its mouth. “Well,” he sang, gesturing absentmindedly with his fingers. “Knowing Marik as well as I do and given that your little brother is the reincarnation of his long lost dead lover, I imagine their going back to Marik’s...well, his _and_ Yugi’s old room, to, you know, fuck each other’s brains out, as I believe they’re calling it now.”

Yami exploded. “What!?”

“Oh, don’t feel jealous, kitten,” the vampire chucked with a leering smirk.

Yami shivered, not liking that look--or that glimmer--in his eye, sparkling like fresh split blood. It was his only warning before, with inhuman speed the vampire appeared in front of him, their face mere inches apart, their lips a whisper’s breath apart, and as those eyes bore into his own shock ones, Yami immediately recognized the emotion burning those eyes bright. Hunger. Rather, Hunger for _him._ “We’ll be putting them to shame soon enough.” 

Red exploded behind Yami’s eyes and reeled back his fist charging. “You fucking asshole!” A well-aimed punched heads straight for the vampire’s unflinching smirk, furry guiding its accuracy.

The vampire dodged it easily and slipped between it. His smirk widening as his arrogant eyes burned into Yami’s stunned ones. Anger quickly replaced it: that smug snicker knowing _exactly_ how to push his buttons and wound up for another punch, but Bakura was quicker and caught this one easily, then squeezed. Yami hissed in pain but did not surrender.

An impressed brow arched above one slender, sparkling lavender eye and without warning Yami found himself pulled forward, his other wristed grabbed and let out a startled yelp as his back against the wall—the vampire pinning him with his much larger body and his wristed pinioned uselessly above his head. The shock more than the pain knocked the breath out of his lungs.

A shiver of heat raced up his spine at the new position. The vampire towering a good few inches. His treacherous body suddenly becoming complaint at those hard, hot muscles pressed against Yami’s shirt and he could feel the man’s heat even through the material of his shirt. With a herculean effort, Yami swallowed his moan, but the vampire’s knowing, curling smile made it clear he had not hidden the effort.

It spurred the boy’s temper into action and Yami _refused_ to surrender quietly. He thrashed, furiously yanking at his hands, bucking his hips and attempting to kick with his feet but those strong hips pinned him in place. Yami expelled a bestial hiss that morphed into a furious, frustrated growl, but the grip was like steel.

Still he thrashed.

All the while the russet-eyed vampire grinned triumphant, like a cat with a bowl of cream—and Yami was that cream. The look made Yami shiver and his stomach twisted with a vicious shock of hunger than left him temporarily immobile. Paralyzed, the vampire advanced on him, massaged his trapped wrists and whispered in his ear, low and salacious. “A man isn’t defeated when you have his neck, but when you have his hands.” It was like warm velvet caressing his ear: intimate and carnal. Yami had never felt so confused and terrified and turned-on in all his life, and yet the sudden arousal felt familiar, the rapid beating of his heart was not the rhythm of terror but of anticipation, arousal—and the familiarity of it terrified him more than he cared to admit.

Long fingers suddenly ticked under his chin, sharp little nails teasing him to lift his face which he did and found himself staring into bright, blood red eyes. Though the smugness remained it was but a mask for primary emotion something deeper, kinder, almost like….affection?

That didn’t make any sense?

And then that voice returned, no longer arrogant but gentle…soft…admiring. “ _You_ taught me that,” The worlds rolled of his tongue thick with admiration and adoration. His face leaning so close Yami could feel his breath brush against his skin, and phantom tough like a ghostly hand cupping his cheek and the sensation made him shiver.

“Remember?” The sudden change in mood causes his grip to loosen and he released Yami’s hip, but the boy remained frozen, eyes locked on the vampire’s as one hand rose up to ghost over his hips, over the rim of his non-belted jeans where his tee-shirt rode up. The touch like freezing fire upon Yami’s skin. His heart thundered so loud he thought it might burst out of his ribcage. His legs subconsciously rose to brace his foot against the wall, steading him, giving him move balance.

The vampire chuckled, pleased and parted his smile. His lips hovering just above his.

Yami ceased the opportunity and, using the wall for momentum, slammed his knee straight into the vampire’s unprotected gut. Yami’s height and the positon got in the way and he missed the man’s vulnerable groan but it was enough. The shock more than the pain sent Bakura whirling back, but the opening was all the distraction Yami needed and he delivered a swift punch across the man’s jaw, sending him reeling backward, groaning in pain with a loud, furious “Fuck!” as he hit the ground, coughed hard and struggled to steady himself against the wall. His face shot, growling—and looked right into Yami’s victoriously smirking face.

“Did you really think it was going to be that easy?” the teenager snorted as if in challenge, and took off like a shot down across the room and out of the ballroom, leaving the stunned vampire behind.

Needing a moment to process what just happened, Bakura’s snicker morphed into a swallowed snort than a full blown burst of triumphant, glorious laughter that morphed into a choked coughing fit and groan when the pain flared up in his struck side. “Ugh, _every_ time.” He dragged himself off the floor, rolling his eyes at his own weakness and his own pride that even after all these centuries his Princess could still catch him off guard.

Still irk him with his stubbornness and pride.

Still seduce him with his temper and fiery eyes.

Still ignite a challenge that set his blood one fire.

The look of sheer confidence burning in his violet eyes when he initiated that challenged, spiked his blood with arousal, the heat of it like a roaring dragon starving for a mate. Who was he to deny them both their hunger…

But not yet.

Something else had to be done first.

Shadows swirled at his feet, tendrils of darkness rising like writhing serpents eager to do his bidding. “Wake them up.” He commanded. “Have everything ready. We won’t be long.”

The shadows writhed and morphed, silent serpents snaking through the manor in obedience others, eagerly tracking the movements of their master’s desired target.

A smile slit Bakura’s face, shadows curling all around him. “Soon, kitten. Very soon…” the promise was a declaration and a vow. “And no one will _ever_ take you away from me again!”

_Anastasia  
Your disappearance is the thorn in my side  
Anastasia  
You know your absence is the thorn in my side_

_I think about you every night and every day  
Every moment since you left here  
You were the one that got away, as they say  
Everyone has an Anastasia_

—Voltaire, _Anastasia_

Yami burst out of the ballroom with a gasp of freedom and relief so strong he could’ve wept from it. One the other side of the main hall the front doors glowed in the shadow and moonlight like the pearly gates of heaven.

Instead, he bolted up the steps instead. No way in hell was he living Yugi hear alone with these psychos. They’d have a talk about his “choice” in one night stands later. He grabbed the banister post to take the sharp turn of the second stairs and almost cleared the landing and prepared to all out Yugi’s name.

It morphed to a scream that exploded silently from his throat. There at the top of the landing, Bakura lounged lazy as a predatory cat at the top of the stairs, grinning. The fucking bastard even had the audacity to wave. Red exploded behind Yami’s eyes and he lunged like a bunting lion claws and teeth out stretched ready to tears the bastard apart.

He didn’t see the shadows swirling secretly beneath the man’s fingers. Or see them appear around his feet until the ground gave out from under him. Or rather the steps flattened into a slide and once Yami’s feet touched it he slid and fell forward. His anger vanished and transformed into confusion and fear as he hit the ground and started sliding down the stairs and started screaming. Bakura burst out laughing and leapt on the steps behind him, surfing the shadows with all the grace and elegance of a master.

Never one to be outdone. Yami rolled himself over and grabbed one of the banister beams and managed to swing his weight, projecting himself off the shadow slide and onto the second steps at the base of the landing. Despite the pain jolting up his spine when his back crashed into the steps he didn’t hesitate. Rolling over he bolted up the steps, arms pumping at his sides and disappeared around the corner of the second floor, just as Bakura reached the base.

The vampire cursed loudly, then smirked, and flew after him.

Yami turned around and screeched when the vampire literally _flew_ through the air, his long hair fanned all around him like terrifying devil wings and his arms out stretched like a lovers. Instead of outrunning him, Yami skidded to a stop, surprising the vampire, once again, by turning around and running towards his embrace—only to leap into a nose dive and roll underneath him and onto the other side of the hall. Caught completely off guard, Bakura’s levitational flight veered off course in his shock and he was sent propelled into the floor and rolled to crash against the wall.

Yami snickered, triumphantly and took off again, calling out Yugi’s name and pushing open rooms, ignoring ones he knew were not bed rooms. As he descended the steps back to the second floor, the cold realization suddenly hit him. _How_ did he know which rooms were not bed rooms and which ones were not? How had he known the second staircase would take him to the third floor and then the second? He’s only seen blue prints of this place, he’d never actually stepped inside of it before this point? So how?

And yet…he knew! I knew the rooms and the furnishings. He which towers were used for study and which ones he and Yugi used as quiet places to read and write and draw and try on clothes. Which ones were the most successful at hiding from their father on one of his rare trips here—and yet the stern, unscrupulous man he saw in his memory was not the loving, kind=hearted man who’d raised them and adored them all their lives. And yet he saw both so clearly in his mind. The onslaught of it all forced him to stop and he clutched as his head, the duel memories splitting his mind and he grit his teeth in an effort to make it stop.

“Stop it!” he commanded, shaking his eyes, his eyes squeezed shut against the onslaught. The hallway spun around him. The chairs, the furnishing, the paintings, the doors and windows. He knew them. He _knew_ them.

Yami tore at his hair and screamed, overcome he forgot everything else and ran down the stairs for the door. He needed to get out of this house, away from this place and away from here. Away from the ghosts and phantoms chasing him and bombarding him with memories of someone else’s life. Someone who was not him. He was Atemu Yami Sennen, he was _not_ the boy who’d lived here. _Not_ the boy who apparently _liked_ being chased by a vampire.

The front doors came blessedly into being and he nearly wept as his hand enclosed over the locks and pulled.

The door remained stubbornly closed. He yanked again, screamed, cursed and kicked when the handle did not budge. With a desperate scream he threw his weigh into it but the bolts were stubborn and the doors firm in their fortitude. He punched the ancient wood and it creaked under his knuckles but didn’t move.

The hiss of shadows swooped behind him and he whirled around. Swallowed another scream as he senses them coming, slithering like snakes about the walls and floor like serpents testing the air and searching. Knowing exactly what or rather _who_ they were searching for, Yami panicked, head swirling around before he dove into the first room he could find and locked the door.

_I kept your room just how you left it  
There's not a toy out of place  
Just in case the fates are kind and you come back someday  
I don't want to live without my little Anastasia_

—Voltaire, _Anastasia_

Relaxing back against the door, he gasped as he took in the room: it was a small study or reading room too small to be a library and yet the fireplace on the other side of the room sported two built-in bookshelves loaded with worn leather bound volumes of different sizes and subjects. The wear of their spines proof that they had been well loved and well used. A small couch beneath the windows created the illusion of a window seat, and a large, plush Victorian armchair facing the fire with a small table to the side and burning braziers on the wall invoked a feeling of warmth and familiarity, a sense of comfort that blanketed the coldness that had seeped into his bones ever since their grandfather had died.

Yami imagined himself in this room: saw a cheery fire burning in that hearth, the soft flicking glows of the braziers like fireflies. Saw Yugi asleep on that couch curled up in one of his coats. Imagined himself sitting by that fire, in that chair, his favorite book in one hand and a glass of brandy in the other, or whisky or a cup of strong tea until he fell asleep with that book in his lap. Imagined that very image so many times. Saw it so clearly…

When the memory disappeared and the world rearranged itself back into the dimly lit room, Yami gasped, backed up and whirled around to run—and landed smack against a wall of warm muscle and solid flesh. No, not a wall, a chest—the chest of the vampire Bakura who was looking at him with eyes so warm and so familiar, it sent a shiver down Yami’s spine. He leapt sway from him and to his surprise the vampire did nothing to stop him. Yami backed away slowly, and Bakura took a step towards him, matching his retreat step for step and unwilling to let the short distance between them increase.

“Do you remember this room, Princess?” His voice was deep, warm, whisky by the fire.

Yami backed away, the affection in that voice terrifying him more than anything else. The back of his legs hit the side and he dropped into the arm chair. Hands slammed down on the arm rests pinning him in place, the vampire looming over him, leering into Yami’s frightened eyes, his lips a whisper’s breath from Yami’s. “This is where we first met?”

Visions exploded behind Yami’s eyes: images and shadows visible only by moonlight, but the colors were muted and dulled, the faces shadowy and unreadable, like looking through muddy water. His eyes squeezed shut, desperate to both fight the onslaught of memory and desperate for some form of clarity, the two warring in his mind.

A warm hand cupped the side of his face. His eyes popped open, the fog of uncertainty clearing completely. Yami stared up into deep russet red eyes so deep and achingly familiar that Yami’s heart wanted to weep, and he had no idea why.

And then the vampire leaned forward and kissed him.

Kissed him so tenderly that it broke his heart. Yami’s resolve shattered. He exhaled into the kiss and melted into the embrace. The vampire caught him and deepened the kiss, pulling away gently to encompass his lips completely, tasted honey and spice and fire. Yami taste salt and earth and finely-aged wine. Despite the actual gentleness of it, it was the most intense kiss he’d ever experienced.

Hands found his hips and wrapped around his lower back. Slide up his sides, cup the back of his head and wrap around his waist, pulling him closer. The touch so heartbreakingly warm, so achingly familiar, so intensely real…

Yami screamed and shoved him away, overcome with shock and terror. Tears of pure shock and overwhelming emotion stung his eyes but this time he did nothing to starch their flow. With one last terrified glance at the vampire who only stared at him, she shoved past him and ran.

_And here the skies are neither day nor night_

_In this place where I close my eyes  
It's like my skin would try so hard to hold it back  
There's an explosion, it comes raining down  
You smiled, you smiled at me_

—Voltaire, _Anastasia_

Blinded by tears he ran through the anguish-hazed manor with no idea of his

destination, yet his feet knew the way. Then he tripped, stumbled but he caught

himself and landed on his knees. Air expelled from him in thick, heavy hyperventilating

pants like a drowning man surfacing. Subconsciously, he wiped away his tears

with the back of his hands, his eyes clearing enough to recognize the checker

patterned floor of the ballroom.

The room had changed. It was darker, shadowed, lit by candelabras and pyramid clusters of candles giving the room an eerie glow that danced off the windows and glass like a world of dancing flames. That ghastly chair had been removed, replaced with what he could only describe as an altar covered in a white cloth. As he stood he saw a strange pattern drawn on the floor around the altar—a pentagram inside the circle with all manner of strange shapes and runes.

Terror paralyzing him in place, Yami took a hesitant step back.

The doors slammed shut behind him. Yami spun on his heel, dread and terror burning in his stomach. Before he could move a loud swooping sound redirected his attention and he spun around and swallowed a scream. A group of hooded figures in black robes emerged from the shadows, of various heights and sizes, their faces obscured by long black hoods trimmed with red. Yami’s mind screamed at him to run but he was frozen in place. His skin erupted with gooseflesh and fear had become a living thing holding him place with sharp frozen claws pinning him by his shoulders.

He took another step back, intending to run. He did not get far.

Shadows shot from the ground, wrapped around his wrists, ankles and waist and torso like roots or snakes trapping him in a net of shadows. He thrashed against them, survival instincts merged with adrenaline and panic and he struck out like a wild animal trapped in a bramble bush but the shadows were strong, and more shot out trapping him, rendering him immobile until her was encased in a cocoon of shadows. Just when he thought this was the end, the cocoon burst and like a butterfly he burst free from it, landing with a thud—and gasped in absolute bewildered horror, when he learned his clothes had disappeared, replaced with the most beautiful black dress Yami has ever seen.

He had not cared for dresses and drag than way Yugi did, his own style leaning more towards embroidered, colorful classic pieces like trench coats and smoking jackets, but even he could not deny the loveliness of the ball gown: multiple layers of shimmering onyx satin and black lace pinned with clothe roses the deepest of reds formed the skirt, ripple of satin pulled tight around the bodice was pinned with a cloth rose at the heart with black lace forming the collar and trimming the boat neck. Long black bell sleeves were also trimmed with beautiful black lace with a rose embroidery, and the crown was a black veil with deep dark burgundy rose brocade. Beneath the skirt, Yami saw his sneakers had been replaced with long black velvet boots laced from anklet to mid-thigh and—just as he’d arrive having thrown on whatever he could grab in his desperate flight to find Yugi—nothing underneath. The whole thing invoked a regal gothic look, a Queen of Darkness who bowed to no one.

Yami fought the urge to blush. He shot up noticed the people coming close and leapt to his feet, spun on the heel of the boots with surprising speed, and lunged with so much speed and strength he could not have stopped the force of it even if he’d wanted to.

Bakura stood before him, and Yami could do nothing to stop himself from literally running straight to his awaiting outstretched arms. Bakura caught him as he crashed against the man’s chest. Gone was all his earlier flaunted arrogance and crass flirting. The warmth of earlier fled from his face, now stoic and unreadable, his russet eyes betraying no emotion, not a flicker of thought.

_ That  _ terrified Yami more than anything else. So much so that his paralyzed body did nothing to stop Bakura from enveloping him in his arms, from slipping his arm beneath his knees, and scooping him up like a newlywed bride to her nuptial bed. Shadows curled around them both stealing all of Yami’s screams of terror before they unfroze and exited his body as sound.

“Don’t be afraid,” the vampire spoke at last, setting the petrified boy who clung to his arms with shaking hands, his eyes silent and desperate for answers but receiving none. That final flicker of dying hope nearly broke the vampire’s resolve and he kissed the boy’s forehead. “We’re not going to hurt you. No one will _ever_ hurt you. Not as long as I _breathe_.”

The force of that single declaration was so strong, so powerful, so chilling in its pure and absolute promise that in that moment, he would set the entire world on fire and watch it burn all for his sake. That single fact sent a shiver down his spine, but not one of fear.

Bakura stroke his cheek and whispered. “Now.”

From nowhere two of the robed figured came forward ceased him by the arms and pinned them to his sides at the table. Yami screeched and fought them wildly kicking out with his boots but their grip was too strong and his legs became tangled in the skirts. It did not stop him, he hissed and growled, cursed at Bakura, his face a furious mask of rage and betrayal.

Bakura did not flinch and instead barked an order in a language the boy did not understand.

Suddenly the other members began chanting, speaking terrifying words in some foreign language unknown to him. He turned to Bakura his eyes begging for an explanation and this time the vampire smiles, a promise and a prayer. “All this will make sense soon,” he assured him, as flamed of shadows danced and roses around hi, tongues of black and purple flames licking at the air around him and the pentagram began to glow white and hot like a devouring star.

Bakura’s fingers suddenly traced strange symbols over his face and he felt a hot burning sensation from their touch, cooled by another press to his forehead. The chanting around them grew louder, the candles roaring to life like infernos exploding from hell, and Yami wanted so much to scream but he could not. The chanting grew louder. Shadows and flames danced over Yami’s skin and his forehead burned from Bakura’s kiss.

Light. Heat. Shadow. Light. Darkness. All of it surrounded him at once, spiraled together shot into him and then…

"No one will _ever_ take you away from me again."  Then Bakura kissed him.

_Anastasia  
(Little Anastasia  
(I know you're out there, ah)  
Your disappearance is the thorn in my side  
Little Anastasia  
(I know you're out there, ah)  
And only you can take the thorn from my side_

—Voltaire, _Anastasia_

Yami’s eyes popped open.

And just like that, all the locks snapped. The cage of his memory imprisoned in the darkest corners of his mind shattered and the birds within it burst free filling with clarity and color, images and faces before he’d only seen through moonlight and shadow and only in his dreams. He remembered this place. He remembered this world. He remembered…

“Bakura,” the name came shakily to his lips and with it a flood of tears and memories burst out of him. His captures released him and leapt back. Bakura was at his side in a moment, catching him as he sat up and all but collapsed, crying in the man’s arms.

“Atemu?” Bakura asked hesitantly, unsure if the boy still used that name.

“Yes,” he said, his voice shaky a mixture of shock and relief and he cried out with a roar, loud with laughter and choked with tears. A roar of recognition and remembrance and joy and grief and heartbreaking love. “Yes that’s my name. I haven’t used it for so long in this life, but that’s my name…I remember…” he wept and the tears spilt, rhinestone gems of joyful relief and rising hope. “Oh God, Bakura…I remember everything!”

**Author's Note:**

> Necropolis of Former Lovers will be the next one, so check out how Yami and Bakura met, and for those of you disappointed this one wasn't as steamy as the libra ones, well...we'll get there ;) 


End file.
